Searching for the Morning Star
by Purr
Summary: WK/SM, AU. A vampire's search through out 5000 years for her Lord results in Aya having strange dreams of a blonde girl killing young men and Schuldig sent all over the world to track down mysterious murders that might mean immortality for Estet.


AN: I've been reading a lot of Anne Rice recently and surprise surprise… I get inspired to write a vampire story. But just to reassure everyone, I did not use any of her characters or plots. This has been really fun to write and I've been working at extending my chapters and it's doing a great job at keeping me distracted from the new Harry Potter book ^^;; I'm saving the book for my trip to Vancouver and Seattle^_^ Thanks to Aidenn-chan, Nozomi-chan, and Usa-oneechan for pre-reading and all the great encouragements ^_^

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Prologue

Isn't it strange that a gift can be an enemy? It does seem so after five thousand years of life after death… or rather in her rebirth. To her knowledge she is the oldest among her kind, the oldest and purest of blood. After all, she is not only the daughter but also the mother among them.

But after five millennia, even with her sharp sense and perfect memory the aim of her long life seems to have faded away with the history. People she used to know slowly died one by one, time has taught her not to initiate any relationships except for those temporary ones she makes to satisfy her own hunger. It saves her the pain of watching the ones she cares wither away in old age while she stays unchanged. Everything changes around her except for herself. Even the proud and magnificent pyramids of her homeland deteriorated under the harsh weather as she remains as youthful as the day those great tombs were first constructed for the Pharaoh.

"Usako, are you listening to me?"

She turns towards her companion of the moment indulgently; time doesn't matter to her like it matters to him. "I'm sorry Mamo-chan."

The handsome young man huffs in annoyance but smiles at his girlfriend adoringly. "I just want to ask you why we can't see each other more often. It seems like the only time I see you is at night and only for a few hours."

Usagi smiles, hearing the familiar complaint again from a different mouth. This one doesn't seem that bright, others before him had been able to piece up the clues she left by now, but then again in this day and age not many people believe in supernatural phenomena. Even if she told this darling of hers in his face that she is a vampire, she is positive that he'd laugh it up as a joke.

"Mamo-chan! But you know that it's impossible, I have school and with work after classes I don't finish until 9pm." Usagi says gently in a tone that is both childish and reprimanding.

The dark haired young man sighed "I know how strong you are Usa-chan, but I just wish…" frustrated he ran a hand through his midnight black hair. Why is it so hard with her? One look into her hypnotic sapphire eyes is enough to make him forget his own name. Mamoru shakes himself mentally to break the spell over his senses and continues weakly avoiding Usagi's eyes. "I just wish that you'll let me help sometimes."

The blonde smiled. Slow but sweet in his own way and a great improvement from the last time. Already subconsciously he recognizes her power. No human can look into her eyes long enough without feeling the pull. She has been told by a great Italian poet1 that her eyes were the most beautiful that he had ever seen. A pair of blue stones that shinned so hard and cold, the depths filled with dark mysteries that were so at odds with the rosy taint of her youthful almost childish face. For she was just approaching womanhood before her rebirth. This poet… dedicated most of his poems to her even though he had only met her once at a great distance. Alas he had the misfortune of looking into her eyes. The poor fellow married, yet all of his poems were not for his wife; but were written to and for a mysterious woman he was deeply in love with even though he had only seen her once. He called her Beatrice. (Anyone has a guess who is the poet? ^_~)

Her mind is wandering again; already she can see the annoyed expression on Mamoru's face every time her thoughts travel back in time. She smiles at him and tucks her small hand into his, the two acts immediately pacifying him as he squeezes her hands gently and smiles back. "Usako, you know we've been going out for a while now, but I still don't know anything about you!"

"Well let's see. My real name is Lostris; I am five thousand years old. I was born in Egypt and I served the Pharaoh as his personal maiden until his death when I was made into the Vampire Lilith and have been wondering the Earth ever since, surviving on the blood of handsome young men like you."

Mamoru laughed.

She has to smile. See, no big surprise there. Even when she tells him the truth he doesn't believe her. Maybe it is better that he doesn't.

"You're too much Usako!" the young man wipes the tears from the corner of his eyes. "I don't know where you come up with these kind of weird stories! You must have been reading too much Anne Rice."

She gives him her enigmatic smile that men go crazy for. It always answers a question she doesn't want to answer with words. Men being the vainest creature of all would rather pretend to understand the meaning of her smile rather to appear stupid in repeating the same question twice.

"But I'm serious about what I said earlier Usako. I think that I'm falling in love with you."

Oh boy. Another unexpected but familiar declaration. This might make things a little complicated. No matter how many times she has heard the world 'love' especially spoken to her, she can't help but feel sad. It is the tiny human soul that survived all these years that felt pity and sadness… whether for her victims or for herself she can't tell. Why does he have to seal his own fate?

There is only one who she can love and after five thousand years she has yet to meet him. This may seem strange but it is all very natural to her. She was told that she was created to love him, but to love him she must find him first. She has been looking for her Lord for five thousand years now.

"… so meet me at the port at 8 am sharp. I want you to meet them. It's the weekend so you can't refuse. We're going to cross the Channel by boat and stay in France till Monday."

She catches the last few sentences, but it doesn't matter if she missed what he said earlier. "Mamo-chan, it's late can you walk me back to my apartment please?"

She can tell by the look on his face that she made him happy. This is the first time that she has invited him to her home. The first and the last.

She watches him pay for their cold drinks before he eagerly leads her out of the quiet little café situated on the banks of the Thames. 

The view is incredible. The black water alight with millions of shimmering lights like a heaven on hearth, the darkness hiding the polluted water that men left behind.

She walks slowly, forcing Mamoru to slow his strides and leans against his arm in all the perfect gestures of a girl in love. She can hear the pounding of his heart before, but now she can feel the movement of the strong cardiac muscles against his chest. If she closes her eyes, she can almost see the flow of his deep rich blood pumped through the arties like a great waterfall, descending into the smaller arterioles, squeezing through the tiny capillaries, flowing more slowly into the venules, moving back sluggishly up the veins, and finally splashing back into the right atrium of his heart. She can almost smell the salty smell and taste the coppery thickness in her mouth. She sways with hunger.

Wordlessly she fees him push her away, for a second her predatory senses overcomes her and she clutches her prey closer. But then she feels a jacket placed across her shoulders.

"Are you still cold Usako?"

He's smiling, she can see in the night. Her own eyes are shinning with the light of a hunter, she whispers to him, luring him into the illusion she creates just for him. "Yes Mamo-chan, hold me please?"

He nods and holds her close, his strong arms lifting her up until her feet are no longer touching the ground and her face buried against his neck.

She hears him moan against his well as she starts to caress the smooth skin of his neck with her lips, hears him gasps when she licks that same spot, hears him cry out when she playfully bite him until the skin is broken.

The desire for that sweet ambrosia on her lips is enough for her to take him there. The drops oozing through the broken skin teasing her tongue. And Mamoru is all but urging her with his frantic kisses on her face, pressing her body against his till the point that even a vampire like herself is on the verge of pain. The tantalizing taste of the blood teasing her tongue blinding her mind until she gives into the hunger of the body.

Mamoru cries out in mixed ecstasy and pain when her fangs sink into his neck, cutting into the artery buried shallowly under the skin and flesh. The blood gushes out of the broken skin flooding her mouth and all of her senses with its sweet nectar. She can hear herself moan in pleasure.

Her prey is struggling against her now. She can feel his useless movements against her, but it is no use as his life slowly drains into hers.

"Do you still love me Mamo-chan?" She asks quietly as she watches the pale body fall into the black waters of the Thames.

~*~*~*~

He wakes up with a strangled moan, sweaty hair covering his eyes as waves of heat and sweat roll off his body and sits up in bed.

That dream again.

For the past month not a single night passes without dreams of the innocent blonde temptress. Beautiful in a childish way, taking life after life of handsome young men. It is getting worse every night until worried, Omi took him to see a psychiatrist.

Not that it helped much. The path to self-discovery that the good doctor made him go thorough did little to track down the source of these exotic blood drenched dreams.

Driven to desperation after he was almost brought down by a bullet on a mission, he started to seek the comfort of hypnotics, only to sink into the horror of being trapped into the nightmares that refused to release him until one of his team-mates shook him till the point of death.

After the initial use of the sleeping pills, he learnt his mistake. Instead of his nights became endless cycles of restless sleep, dreams of a devilish angel, and then waking up to take a cold shower before falling into bed exhausted.

Everyone is worried, even Yohji. Something must be wrong when the resident playboy offers to take over the morning shifts so he can get more sleep. What will they do if the know that instead of catching up on the much needed rest, he locks himself up and thinks about the mysterious girl Usagi, who plagues his mind, waking and asleep.

She is a vampire.

That much he is sure, he has already seen the way she seduces her victims before draining them. The question should be are vampires real? And if they are why is he dreaming about them? Every time he closes his tired eyes, the image behind his eyelids are visions of her crystalline eyes staring back at him, full of dark promises. The thought fills him with a delightful fear. It scares him as he watches her hunt through his dreams. The image so vivid that he can almost feel the pointy little fangs sink into his own neck, sending waves of pleasure crashing through his body until he can no longer prevent it.

It is a fear that no mission has given him yet. This delicious fear that makes him want to throw himself at the feet of his blonde enchantress while at the same time run away in disgust at his own weakness.

Walking to the bathroom with feline grace of his training, the redhead turns on the tap and let the cold water run over his messy hair and tired face. When he feels the last shreds of the dream washed away Aya lifts his head from the tap and sees the image in the mirror. 

Tired amethyst orbs looks back at him, lined with dark rings. His whole face has a sagged look that makes the young man look much older than his twenty years. Reaching out his hand, Aya makes to trace the beginning of the deep lines between his eyes. Winkle from worry and annoyance. If Aya-chan is still here, she'd tease him to death.

Pale fingers caresses his own reflection, red eyebrows shoot up as the mirror rippled as his fingers touches the cool surface. Aya blinks and moves his fingers again and as same as the first time, the silver surface shivers at his touch.

Maybe he inhaled too much of whatever Yohji was smoking these days, because when the mirror becomes calm again, it isn't his own face that stares back with wide eyes… but the face of a girl.

It is the girl from his dreams. The blonde vampire with eyes of blue jewels and lips the color of the deepest crimson rose.

"Who are you?"

~*~*~*~ The Vampire's Story ~*~*~*~

I grew up as an orphan yet I was surrounded by love. Up to this day, I have no idea about my origins. The priestesses from the Temple of Hapi called me Lostris; daughter of the Waters because I was found on the shores of the Nile, a miracle that I wasn't devoured by the crocodiles. To them I was a gift from the hermaphrodite Goddess Hapi, the patron of the Nile.

My princess and my mistress whom I served during my mortal years called my Usagi, because I was soft spoken and quiet as rabbits the she offered to Hapi.

My maker and my mother passed on the name 'Lilith' onto me upon her rebirth and her death. It was a name and identity I bore in pride and in pain.

I was five when a fisherman found me half naked and crying at the top of my lungs from hunger one day at the break of dawn. I can't remember much of what happened except for being lifted in his arms. He smelt like fish. The old man carried me to the temple of Hapi in the city of Thebes. I could still remember giggling as I stared at the marble stairs and the huge statue of the goddess, her naked breast gleaming in the bring morning light, blinding me.

One of the priestesses came to greet us. I stared in fascination as the old man bowed to the ancient priestess and made some strange signs with his hands. I didn't understand their language, yet I knew that they were talking about me. I shrank back as the priestess knelt down to my height, her hands were bony and wrinkled as the priestess traced my childish face, they stopped at my blue eyes.

The next thing I knew, the priestess had bent down and kissed my tiny feet that were covered with mud from the river. The fisherman copied the act of the old woman before he left, and I was alone with the priestess.

That was how my days as Lostris the novice priestess began. I was taken to the bathhouse where a girl bathed me, washing the dried mud from my feet with as much reverence as if she was serving the Pharaoh himself. I remembered having the best meal of my life that day, all clean in a simple white shift, cut off at the bottom so that I wouldn't trip. It was a simple meal; honeyed figs, hard loaves of bread and roasted meat. Nothing, not even the lavish feasts in the Pharaoh's palaces of my later years could rival that simple fare.

Like I said before, no one knew of my origins and I was too young to remember anything. That added to the fact that I did not speak their language only heightened the veil of mystery they graced me with. People were much more superstitious five thousand years ago and the mere fact that I wasn't devoured by the crocodiles was a miracle in itself. Those reptiles ate almost anything and everything.

The priestesses at the Temple of Hapi named me Lostris, the daughter of the Water. But if I use the present day logic and the scientific method, it's more realistic to assume that I could've been of the Assyrian tribe, or maybe from the barbaric lands up north in the present day Greece. My unusual blonde hair and blue eyes drew worshippers everywhere. And for the time while I served at the Temple of Hapi, the hermaphrodite goddess became one of the most worshipped deities, rivalling almost the great Temple of Osiris.

The priests and priestesses adored me. More worshippers meant more sacrifices and more offerings, which translated to riches for the whole Temple. They taught me lots of things that were not taught to peasant girls in that time and culture. For example within five years, I was fairly advanced in hieroglyphics as well as the simpler form of writing used by the scribes. I would watch and learnt all those around me. It was the most fascinating to watch the oldest priest Taita draw numbers and figures on the dried papyrus. At the beginning I thought that they were just pretty pictures, but as I was later told when I was able to understand that those pictures were actually calculations for the level of the Nile when it would be the flooding season, and the amount of crops that could grow from the rich soil that the beloved river would bring to Egypt.

My young and empty head soaked up everything like dried crumbling earth thirsty for the droplets of rain. I am not bragging when I say that at that time, I was one of the most educated individuals.

My fifteenth year marked my ascendance, the zenith of my life and the pivotal point that began the road to my immortality. It was announced that in honor of her coming to womanhood, the Princess daughter of the Pharaoh would come to the pray Temple of Hapi escorted by the Crown Prince himself.

I was already a novice then, the youngest but a priestess all the same. It was the first time that I was allowed to attend such a grand ceremony. It was a ceremony like no other, at least in her inexperienced eyes at that time.

Now that I think back, I could've remembered a lot more about my initiation if my eyes weren't caught by a certain man. It was true that he was like no other boys I had met before. And I'm just talking about his physical appearance, although he was probably the only person in both the Upper and Lower kingdom with hair the color of sunrise and eyes like polished jewels around his belt. No, his looks were more than striking. But he was also the Prince of Egypt, the next in line to the throne. The future Pharaoh.

You must know that at that time the Crown Prince was already seventeen, two years my senior and well experienced in the arts of pleasure. It was a favorite pastime of the younger girls at the temple to share secret desires involving the godlike prince. I who had never seen him before often scoffed at the foolishness of the other young girls in the Temple, but that day when the sun alighted on his reddish hair, turning him into the very image of Horus and I fell in love with him for the very first time. He was one of the few men who went against the fashion of having a shaved head as smooth as an ostrich egg.

It was all very dreamy and fantastical as I think back to my brief mortal life. I stood there staring unashamedly as he and his sister worshipped the Goddess taking no notice of the rest of us.

Then something happened. The old priestess who took me in when I was first brought to the Temple called my name. I could almost see the laughter in his bright eyes as I jumped at the sudden order to come up to the alter.

My legs were trembling as I walked up the marble steps to the inner shrine, heated jealous looks burned into my back. I tripped on the last step. I have always been clumsy, even my vampire blood was unable to change that. But just before I fell, he caught me. I was being cradled in the arms of the Crown Prince of Egypt.

In a far away place, I could hear hisses from the other girls, the old priestess apologizing, the Princess giggling openly. All I could feel was the blood rushing to my face and the warm strong chest my head was resting on.

Naturally I jumped away by reflex like I was burned, and indeed at that moment with the sun behind him, he did seem to be on fire. I managed to pull away but his arms never left my body. It was not until the old priestess coughed and gave them a meaningful stare that the Prince released me with a smile.

I could see my hands shaking as they received a pair of newborn bunnies from the Princess, an offering for the Goddess Hapi. The pair of creatures were so soft and helpless in my hands, the fur sliding across my fingertips as I caressed them. I knew what was expected of me and an immense sadness filled my body at the thought of taking away their lives even for the service of the Goddess.

The ceremonial knife shook in me hands, the reflected glare on the blade from the hot sun moved on the marble walls. I cut my own hand when I quickly ran the blade across the throats of the bunnies. I could feel my throat tighten and it was only my years of training that stopped my sob. Through the whole ordeal, the feel of sharp bright eyes pierced soul.

It was a relief when the ceremony was finished. I didn't even realize that I still held the dead rabbits in my hands as I practically ran away from the main building into my little garden by the shores of the Nile. It was part of the Temple lands, but I have been granted permission to use an acre of the prime fertile earth. It was there that I buried all the carcasses of the animals I sacrificed to the Goddess.

I dug a hole under a jasmine bush and placed the bunnies inside, wrapped in one of my handkerchiefs.

"What are you doing?" A deep amused voice said, so close to my ear that I could feel the tiny hairs on my neck standing straight up. For a second time in the same morning I embarrassed myself in front to the Crown Prince as I cried out in shock and fell forward on I hands and knees.

It could still make me blush to think about it. It was the most humiliating thing I have ever done, but it did appear funny to him from the way he was laughing so hard that tears started to fall from his eyes.

"Oh brother! Are you terrorizing this poor girl again?!"

A pair of gentle hands helped me up the golden haired priestess and started to brush away the dirt on my plain white linen skirt. It was the Princess, without a word I sunk back onto my knees in the presence of the royal siblings.

The Princess sighed in annoyance. "Why did you do that for? I just cleaned away the dirt on your skirt and you got it all dirty again!"

I realized a little too late my mistake, but it didn't seem right to stand up again so I knelt there staring in fascination at the hole I dug for the two dead rabbits.

"Who's scaring her now sister?" a firm hand landed on my shoulder this time and pulled me up with little effort. "What is your name girl?"

At first I was angry at him for addressing me so crudely. I wanted to tell him coldly that I was a priestess, a chosen one of the Goddess Hapi, but all thoughts vanished from my mind as he began to caress my hair, holding and examining each yellow strand gently.

"Lo…Lostris your highness."

"Lostris, what a pretty name," it was the Princess who smiled and held my hand.

"What are you doing here before my brute of a brother disturbed you priestess? And aren't you a little young to serve the Goddess, you look no older than I do!"

"I grew up here Your Highness. The Temple is my home and I was burying the rabbits your Highness sacrificed for the Goddess Hapi," finally something intelligent came out of her mouth.

"Burying? That's no proper way of burial. If you really want to honour the Goddess then they should be mummified," the Prince cut in his bright eyes mocking me.

"As you well know my Prince," his words made me angry, how dare he belittle my efforts. "Only the most knowledgeable Priests of Osiris are learnt in the process of mummification, a poor uneducated girl like me would never be able to discover the mysteries behind it."

"Of course not if you're stuck in a place like this," the Prince replied haughtily. "What do you say sister. Don't you think that it's a shame that such a pretty girl is locked up in this dreadful place? All this golden hair and blue eyes will waste away if they are not properly worshipped by men," Mischievous eyes sparkled at his sister and a cold fear sized me.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking my dear brother?" the Princess smirked back, and before I could scream for help, a hand covered my mouth and a ribbon covered my eyes. I was dragged away from my garden kicking and hitting by the Crown Prince and Princess of the Upper and Lower Kingdom; kidnapped.

Thus ended my days as the Priestess of Hapi and the beginning of my years in the lavish court of the Pharaoh as the personal slave of the Crown Prince.

~*~*~*~present~*~*~*~

It's them, they are Mamoru's friends. Usagi thought with a smile. Even without having to peek into their minds or eavesdrop on their conversation, the worried look on their faces are enough. After all it is already 8:30, time to make her appearance. She slowly walks towards them, a hesitant expression arranges itself artistically on her almost human face.

"Excuse me, are you Motoki-san?"

The blond man turns around from his girlfriend and finds himself staring into large blue eyes. "Yes, how may I help you?"

"I'm Tsukino Usagi, Mamoru's girlfriend," Usagi says holding out her hand, smiling as Rita looks at their joint hands uncomfortably.

"So you are the beautiful Usagi!" Motoki exclaims. "Mamoru didn't do you justice with his words. All we hear everyday from him is how beautiful you are. I would've thought that hew as bewitched but I can see the reason now."

"I'm sure you are exaggerating Motoki-san," she blushes prettily.

"Aren't you with Mamoru-san?" Rita's tight voice cuts in. "We have been waiting for half an hour and he hasn't shown up. It's not like him to be so unpunctual."

"Really?" An alarmed look appears on her face instantly, so perfect that no one can know that she knows exactly what happened to her ex-boyfriend.. "I haven't seen Mamo-chan since he walked me home after our date last night."

"Let's wait a little longer. Don't worry Tsukino-san, he's probably still in bed dreaming about you. I'll give him a call right now." With that, Motoki walked towards the pay phone, leaving the two woman in an uncomfortable silence… well at least on Rita's part.

~*~*~*~

Shit, why is he always the one Crawford picks on for these sorry excuses for missions. Can't that uptight bastard take a joke? How is he to know that their American leader would choose to come back to the office at the time Schuldig was having a little fun with his blonde escort.

One lesson he learnt from this is never to assume that Crawford is human. I mean come on, which man would get up at 3:00am to work? It was his misfortune that the he was caught in a compromising position with an expensive whore on top of the American's desk.

But even that doesn't deserve the punishment he's suffering through right now. Does Crawford have any idea how disgusting the water of the English Thames is?! He can see clumps of black stuff and dead fish floating in front of his goggles and it smells like a sewer down here in the water, not to mention the state his gorgeous orange mane will be after being plastered to his skull inside the skintight wetsuit.

And all this for one man, a dead man he might add. Mamoru Chiba, Estet's newest victim dead before the organization had a chance at him. Now the three Elders have their knickers all in a bunch to find the idiot who stole their prey.

Schuldig pities the poor soul… but then again the moron deserves it if he dares to steal from Estet.

Diving deeper into the murky water the telepath almost screamed when a hand floated in front of his face. As it so happens, in his shock his mouth opened around the oxygen tank and he swallows several mouthfuls of the black water. At least his theory on the sewer has just been proven. Now moving onto more important matters…

Crawford! I found Chiba's body. 

~*~*~*~

It's not usual to have to queue for the bathroom, especially in a house with only guys and no girls. Only girls take this long with morning preparations… and maybe Yohji fits in that category too. But when they finally succeeded in breaking into the bathroom, they are met with a very unusual sight.

"Aya-kun?!"

There is no response from their redhead leader who seems to be asleep on the floor of the bathroom with nothing but a pair of boxers.

"What happened to him?" Ken asks out loud astonished.

"I'll tell you what happened," a leer on Yohji's face as such a golden opportunity presents itself. "Normal people make love to their partners, but there are some rare cases when a threesome is more satisfying to some individuals, and in some extreme cases like Aya who has always been the prime example of an anal retentive man, a onesome is his way of finding release if you know what I mean," the playboy winks at his blushing younger teammates. "A little lesson on life for you." Too bad his fun is cut short when a familiar voice spoke up.

"No, I don't know what you mean," Aya says in a deathly sweet voice. "Care to explain to me?" but before Yohji can open his mouth Aya's fist connected painfully with the blond's cheek, sending Yohji into lala and. "Actually now that I think about it, why don't you keep you mouth shut for the rest of the day." With that Aya steps over Yohji's prone body out of the bathroom.

_1: Dante, he was an Italian poet. He fell in love with a woman he only met once, and dedicated a lot of his poems to her, who he called Beatrice._

AN: All responses are welcome but please don't hesitate to criticize, I know that I'm a long way from writing a good story and I'd really appreciate it if you guys can write something more than the regular 'update, more, etc' reviews. ^_^ All I know of the ancient Egyptians are what I read from books, if I made any mistakes in this story please point them out.


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